


Tryst

by ladydragon76, Masqueadrift



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Fanfiction, Genre: PWP, M/M, Rating: NC-17 - Freeform, character: drift, character: sideswipe, smut: sticky, verse: idw, warning: canon- what canon?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-12
Updated: 2013-02-12
Packaged: 2017-11-29 01:18:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/681056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladydragon76/pseuds/ladydragon76, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Masqueadrift/pseuds/Masqueadrift
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Summary:</b> PWP smut scene</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tryst

**Author's Note:**

> **‘Verse:** IDW  
>  **Series:** None  
>  **Rating:** NC-17  
>  **Characters:** Sideswipe/Drift  
>  **Warning:** Sticky, Canon? What Canon?
> 
> **Notes:** Takes place sometime shortly after Drift joins the Wreckers, before it’s gotten around just who he used to be.

Drift leaned back against the bar, sipping his energon and watching the milling cluster of mechs. Space stations were all kind of the same, even these strictly Autobot ones. He only vaguely wondered where the other Wreckers had gone off to, but brushed off the thought. This was their chance to get _away_ from one another.

Drift wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but with all these mechs, he was likely to find it. About then was when a flash of red caught his optics. There was something familiar about the mech, but more than that, he moved with a predator’s grace through the crowd, drawing the optic. He also looked like he needed a drink. Or a fight.

Drift smirked. Maybe a good ‘facing.

Drift watched the mech weave his way through the crowd, aqua optics taking it all in, from the dancers on the floor to the shadowy corners where some were getting more... _friendly_. He moved right by Drift to the bar.

“I'll take the strongest brew of high grade you've got."

Drift grinned into his own energon, helm tipping to take in the back view. Mech was taller than him, but Drift had a thing for larger mechs. Decision made, he pushed off the bar, sliding around behind the mech between him and the red newcomer, and tucked himself between them. The stranger huffed, but moved away into Drift’s old spot. Drift let his fingers tap along the tumbler in his hand. “Sure about that? The strongest stuff here will lay you out.”

The mech’s fingers curled around the high grade the barkeep set in front of him, glancing sideways at Drift. He smirked, an optic ridge raising as he swept Drift with a thorough look.

“And you, my friend, have obviously never tried any of my special home brew before," the mech said, lifting the tumbler slightly in a salute before taking a drink. He started coughing almost immediately, optics flashing as the strong fuel hit his tanks. "Of course, this comes pretty slagging close."

Drift snorted a laugh, taking another sip of his own drink. He shook his helm. “Well, you have fun with that then. I want someone at least marginally conscious enough to participate.” He twisted around, optics scanning the mechs dancing and laughing.

From the corner of his optic, Drift could see the mech’s attention perk. The tumbler was set down, and optics brightened and focused as he looked Drift up and down again. "Participate in what exactly?" he purred, leaning a bit closer, a wolfish grin curving across his face. "Because I'll tell ya right now, it'll take more than _one_ of these for me to be unable to participate in _anything_."

Drift smirked right back, tipping his helm just enough to the side to look up at the mech. “With grace and dexterity? Or did you just want to lay under me and moan.” A negligent shrug, and an appraising look. “Can you work it at least?” he asked, helm tipped and gaze on black pelvic plating.

The mech chuckled, leaning against the bar, looking down along his own body.. "Sweetspark, I can do more than just lay there and moan. And I can work _your_ pretty little aft right on through the floor. Or maybe the wall." His engine revved, optics darkening a shade.

As if Drift hadn’t heard that sort of talk before? He knocked back the last of his energon, grinned, and started walking for the door. Why not? He really _did_ like bigger mechs, so with a come-and-get-it look, Drift slid through the crowd. He’d either be followed, or start over in one of the other bars.

Drift couldn’t help another glance back once clear of the bar, and smiled to see the mech following him, his tank-stripping tumbler of high grade in his hand. He knew that look. It was going to be a good night.

Drift let his hips swing just a tiny bit more, slowing his pace. He hadn’t _tried_ to seduce a mech into pouncing him in a really long time. Had forgotten about the little thrill that ran down his spinal struts in anticipation.

He headed for the little room he’d rented, the main event wasn’t taking place outside of it no matter what a thrill it might be. He’d worked too hard to convince his fellow Wreckers that he only spiked, but he was beginning to think he’d like taking it from this mech. The way his optics roved over Drift’s frame was a turn-on, and he absolutely expected to get slammed into the wall at any moment.

Drift keyed in the entry code once they reached his door. He peeked back over his shoulder as it hissed open, casting the mech a sultry, half-lidded look and tipping his helm to invite him in. It was small, plain, boring in the way cheap rental rooms all were, but it had a berth, and was nowhere near the mechs he was usually confined with.

The mech purred in a low rumble, slipping into the room with the same animal grace as in the bar, optics moving, surveying, checking for threats.

“So~” Drift said, dragging the word out as he turned to face the mech, noting the grin. He let his optics roam over the red plating, feeling a tingle of arousal over his sensornet. Yeah. This one would do. He tipped his helm, looking up with a slight grin of his own. “Floor, wall, or berth?” he asked, just to get things moving.

Optics darkened and narrowed, the mech stepping forward, invading Drift’s space, their EM fields pushing and melding. Drift’s vents caught a little as energy flared and caressed.

"That is an excellent question," the mech murmured, voice dropping into a low, sultry purr. He shoved Drift back against the closed door, planting both hands on either side of his helm, pinning him in place with his body.

Drift gasped as he was slammed backwards, but growled right into the kiss as the mech’s mouth came down to capture his. He brought his hands up to grip the mech’s hips and pull him in even tighter, shutting off all thought about turning this into a bit of a wrestling match. He didn’t really want to be charged for any damages to the room, but it was an exciting thought that this mech was willing and _capable_ of being rough with him. He pushed his pelvis forward and bit at a lip, daring the mech to take more, pleased when he got a growl back.

Drift’s mouth was practically devoured, and he pushed eagerly back into the mech as fingers worked into transformation seams. The mech’s hips ground against his own, and Drift’s knees went a little weak as his audial was touched. He tipped his helm into the mech’s hand, moaning and bringing one leg up to hook around a red one. He bucked his pelvis forward again, a shock of need flashing over his sensornet at the contact to his panel.

“Come on,” Drift urged. He really might just throw the mech down if he didn’t move a bit faster.

"Pushy," the mech replied with an amused snort. His hand trailed lower, slipping between Drift’s thighs to grip his panel and squeeze. His thumb rubbed firmly up the seam, scratching lightly before slipping into the gap at the join between hip and thigh.

Drift's EM field fluctuated and rippled with arousal, and he moaned as the mech tugged at it with his own. “Can be,” he said, hips rolling into the mech’s hand. He let his panel retract, spike deciding to extend of its own accord. Drift mentally shrugged it off. He knew what he wanted tonight, and habit wasn’t going to stop him. It probably wouldn’t stop his temporary lover either, not as the sweet tang of lubricant hit the air. Drift bit back what might have come out as a whimper, and gritted his teeth. That was nice trick too with their fields.

Drift focused, hooked his fingers into the mech’s energy field and dragged his hands down his back, _pulling_ as he did. Two could play that game.

The mech gasped a curse, and Drift smirked at the surprised reaction. Most didn’t know that little trick. He groaned softly as he mouthed along Drift’s jawline, first licking, then biting Drift’s neck. The thumb on Drift’s audial stroked up then down, more firmly than before.

"Good. I like 'em pushy," the mech growled, his own spike extending.

Drift gasped, concentration broken to leave him just clawing at the mech’s shoulders as a thick spike slid across his array. He drew his knee higher, intent on climbing the mech if he had to.

“Yeah?” he managed to ask, a bit belated, but whatever. “Then ‘face me. Now. Hard. Or I’m droppin’ you and takin’ what I want.” Drift heard the carefully practiced accent slip, but didn’t care. He wanted it. Burned for it. Frag, was that lubricant he could feel rolling down his inner thigh? Damn mech was already making him leak for it.

At least he wasn’t the only one affected. The mech moaned against Drift’s neck, panting softly as he sucked his main line. "You're not droppin’ me," he said, pulling away only to spin Drift around, shoving him face first into the wall. One hand gripped the back of Drift’s neck as he leaned in to nip sharply at his audial. "Remember you asked for it, gorgeous," he growled, hooking an arm between Drift’s thighs. He lifted, forcing Drift to balance on one foot and claw at the wall for purchase. His hips snapped forward, impaling Drift on his spike in one quick thrust.

It was almost more of a shock to be called ‘gorgeous’ than it was to be spun and pushed against the wall. Even as he shouted, a small part of Drift thrilled to know the mech thought he was attractive. He wasn’t used to it. Wing had whispered it to tame him. Blurr used it like a weapon. This mech _meant_ it, and that lit his circuits nearly as much as the plunging spike that rode so perfectly over the nodes embedded in the plush lining of his valve.

Drift gave himself over to it. Slag it. If the mech killed him after this, at least he’d die blissed out. There were worse ways to go. He submitted completely, arching back, pushing against the wall for more contact with his lover’s frame. He moaned uninhibitedly, charge already rising, and Drift didn’t fight it. If he took the mech with him, he’d just wind him up for round two. No matter what, it was only going to be the first of as many overloads as he could wring from the mech.

A hot mouth licked and bit at Drift’s neck, low voice groaning as he rocked his hips back and slammed forward again, driving his spike deep. His fingertips bit into Drift's thigh hard enough to peel color nanites off and leave black streaks. He angled back again, then set a punishing pace that left Drift crying out with each thrust. There was an edge of pain under the pleasure that made his spark thrill. Someone not afraid to be rough! It was slagging perfect. He worked his valve as much as he could, but his ability to concentrate was shot. Every few thrusts knocked against the deepest nodes in his valve, sending a burst of sensation right to his spark.

“Ah! Please al-slagging-ready!”

"Please?" the mech growled, vents panting hard.

Drift cried out in protest as the mech pulled away, took a step back, and with a hard tug, yanked him around face to face again. He yelped as he was spun around, then moaned into the devouring kiss. He clawed at red shoulders, panting hard, hips twisting in thwarted need. Drift finally managed the coordination to haul his legs up, wrapping them around the mech’s waist as hands clamped on his aft and lifted. He squirmed, helm thunking back against the wall as the spike was finally pushed back into him.

“Yes!” Drift tightened his hold, trying to lift up, roll his hips, get the friction he needed, but the mech stubbornly held him in place. His fingertips dug into Drift’s pelvic plating as he thrust hard, making his back scrape against the wall.

The mech’s vents cycled faster, as loud as Drift’s, and he dropped his helm down to burrow into his neck. Another bite on the main line, panting breaths hot against his cables. Drift keened, his legs shifting for purchase, hands hurting he clutched tight at red shoulders. He was so close. If he could just _move_! Overload was right slagging there, _just_ out of reach. He couldn’t even form the words to beg, twisting on the edge. His vents roared, wide open for the cooling air. Heat radiated off his body, and each driving thrust pushed a sharp sound from his vocalizer.

There was another growl, then they were moving, turning. A few steps, and Drift was wordlessly protesting as the mech pulled his spike free again. He shouted as he was thrown to the berth, some of the charge startled out of him, but then the mech was crawling up between his thighs. He hooked one knee with his forearm, lifted. The other arm braced his weight and he leaned in to lick and bite at Drift's lips. Hips rocked down, spike sliding along the slick surface of Drift's array. Drift gave a pleased growl. Pit, yes! That was what he fragging wanted. He lifted his hips, free leg wrapping around the red mech’s waist to try and pull him closer as he chased that spike. He bit back, clawtips out and scribing thin silver lines into the crimson finish.

“Come on!” Drift urged, kicking his foot. He could smell lust on the mech, hot and sweet and thick. “Come on,” he repeated in a gasp.

The mech smirked against Drift's mouth, nipping sharply at his lower lip. He rocked his hips once, the tip of his spike teasing the edge of Drift’s valve before plunging back in.

The mech’s vents hitched softly, and he groaned, thrusting hard and deep several more times before pulling out again.

“Stop fragging _stopping_!” Drift snarled. He squirmed, coordination gone as he twisted in thwarted, desperate need. The mech pushed his leg up higher, straddled the other, then pinned him by his shoulders to the berth. Drift grabbed at his forearms, a whimper escaping despite trying to use the leg caught between their chests to gain enough leverage to just shove the mech over so he could ride that spike to release already.

The mech’s mouth twisted into a wicked grin. "Can't make me," he taunted, but he lined his hips up again, the head of his spike nudging at Drift's valve before he impaled him yet again. He swore and gasped, grinding his array against Drift’s hard enough to scraping off color nanites before he began to move again.

Drift cried out, pleasure ratcheting impossibly higher. With each powerful thrust the mech hit the deepest nodes of his valve, rocketing bliss across his sensornet. Each grinding roll of his hips set off a tremor of aching lust. He still couldn’t move more than a slight twitch, but it didn’t matter, just so long as the slagger didn’t stop again!

The mech gave a low moan, leaning forward on Drift’s shoulders. "Fragging... amazing," he whispered, breathless as he sped up, slamming into Drift with rough, deep strokes.

Drift agreed by writhing, sharp sounds and breathless cries escaping him. Tingling ecstasy spread throughout his body. His back arched despite being pinned at the shoulders and thigh to the berth. Sound built with the crest of rapture, then burst into a high scream with the sun that exploded inside him. Drift’s helm tossed side to side, claws gouging plating and piercing an energon line by the mech’s elbow. He twisted and thrashed, wild in the throes of release.

Overload left Drift blissed out and drained, exhausted and sated. He flopped back to the berth, panting hard and gyros spinning, though he heard as the mech hissed through his teeth. A snarl curled his lips as slammed his hips forward a final time and tossed his helm back with a shout.

He collapsed over Drift, making him grunt at the sudden additional weight, but it shifted to a soft chuckle. Drift groaned, pushing at the mech a little to nudge him to the side so he could bring his leg back down.

“Slag me,” he muttered, still shaking and feeling weak.

The mech rolled to the side, resting his helm near Drift’s shoulder. He chuckled weakly, optics shutting. "I think I already did," he murmured.

Drift huffed another soft laugh, then cycled his vents in a deep sigh. “And then some.” He threw a leg over the mech’s, stretching to unkink his cables and loosen his joints. His valve was tender, twinging as he shifted, and that made him smile. He purred, relaxing again. It’d been a while since he’d been ‘faced so thoroughly.

"Mmm. Told ya it'd take more than one," the mech said an amused snort.

It took Drift a moment to remember the banter about the mech’s drink, but then he grinned. “Glad to be wrong.” He watched the mech slick a fingertip through the droplets of his own transfluid on his abdominal plating before moving down to stroke the inside of his thigh, tracing the inner seam.

"Guess I don't get out of this completely unscathed either." The mech’s words drew Drift’s attention to the scratches by his elbow.

Drift growled with a smile, rolling to his side to catch the mech’s arm and lick the thin trickle of energon. He flowed upward, purring as he pressed his mouth to the other’s in a hot kiss. He was sore, sated, but why not? He was going to be stiff and walking funny anyway. Might as well take all he could get. More than once had been the original plan anyway.

The mech purred loudly into the kiss, lips parting in invitation, though he broke the kiss before it really got going. He swore several vile curses before offering Drift an apologetic look. "Gotta go. Fragging commander's calling us back to the _Ark_." He pushed lightly at Drift as he sat up, crawling over him to get off the berth.

Drift slumped back, pointing toward the corner of the room. “Supposed to have a quick wash station there.” Damn though. And _Ark_? He really looked at the red mech. He really did look a little familiar, but Drift didn’t want to add intimacy to something that’d been that slagging good. That’s how emotions got tangled up. And as good as that’d been, he was definitely not asking the mech’s name, because then he’d know how to get in touch with him in the future.

"Got it," the mech said, moving toward the wash station and sliding open the small panel that concealed it. It only took him a few short minutes before he was clean and dry enough for public, then he was moving toward the door.

He paused, turning back to flash Drift a cheeky grin. "Thanks for the good time, gorgeous," he said, purring as he palmed open the door. "By the way, the name's Sideswipe. What's yours?"

Well, so much for that. Drift smiled though. “Oh, so that’s why you look familiar. Sunstreaker.” It was the face, and the optics, he thought. And well, slag. It was kind of even hotter knowing he’d been with one of the Autobots’ wild twins. Their reputation put even Topspin and Twin Twist to shame.

Sideswipe blinked, optics a little wide. “You and… Sunstreaker?”

Drift shook his helm, smirking. “No, combat. And Drift. I’m Drift,” he answered.

“Ah,” Sideswipe said, then purred, optics sweeping over him. "Nice name.” He winked an optic. "Easy to remember. Maybe I'll see ya again sometime." And with that he stepped through the door and disappeared even before it shut.

Drift stretched again, then curled up on his side to recharge. He’d barely gotten comfortable when his comms pinged. //What?//

// _We’ve got orders. Get your aft back here_.//

The comm closed before Drift could reply, so he rolled to sit on the edge of the berth, wincing as his valve pulled. Slagging Springer. Slagging orders! He’d already lost his round two, couldn’t he at least get to enjoy the afterglow for a change?

Drift wobbled his way to the wash station, knowing he couldn’t stall. Wreckers never rested, and he wouldn’t let Kup down by not returning anyway.

Maybe he would risk a next time. Would probably be worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> **([Table of Contents](http://ladydragon76.livejournal.com/6214.html) ) ******


End file.
